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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25742212">Voyeur</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomsfronttooth/pseuds/tomsfronttooth'>tomsfronttooth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BDSM, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Multi, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Public Sex, Sex Club, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:13:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,579</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25742212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomsfronttooth/pseuds/tomsfronttooth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Hiddleston has just moved to a new flat in the Primrose Hill area of London. When he spots his new neighbor Sofie, from his window one night, he is instantly smitten and becomes determined to pull her into his secret, voyeuristic world.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Blood Orange & Meyer Lemon Macarons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Since my last work featured a sweeter Tom, I decided to go the decidedly darker "dom" route this time around. There will be lots of smut, kids - hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sofie rubbed her tired, watery eyes as she put away the receipts for the day and closed her laptop. She placed the day's money for the bakery inside a zippered, blue canvas pouch and secured it inside her purse so she could run it by the night drop-off at the bank on her way home. Shrugging on her jacket, she clicked off the small desk light in the back office, and finally took her long, black curls down from her bun, sighing in relief as she carded her fingers through the glossy ringlets.</p><p> </p><p>Walking through the now-silent bakery, she did a last visual check for the night, ensuring everything had been put away and turned off.  Sofie had worked at Primrose Bakery in London since she was 20 years old, moving to London from the States in order to help her grandmother run it.  Her grandmother, Antonella, lived in London for most of her life, originally immigrating from northern Italy. Shortly after moving to London, she had opened Primrose Bakery with Sofie’s grandfather and had been running it herself every since his passing 10 years ago. However, after his death, Antonella has found the bakery too much to run by herself, especially in her advancing age and declining health. Sofie’s mother suggested Sofie move to London to help her out. At the time, Sofie had just graduated from a local culinary arts school in New Hampshire and was eager to get some real-world experience, as her dream was to be a professional pastry chef.  Unfortunately, once she got to London, she learned very quickly that her grandmother was only looking to have her help her with the daily running of the business, preferring to do all the baking herself.  At the most, Sofie occasionally got to help out with prep and some decorating, but it wasn’t enough for her. Baking was her passion, and yet every day, she found herself pouring over spreadsheets instead of pouring cake batter.  She had tried to talk to her grandmother about wanting to help out more in the kitchen, especially with her culinary degree, but her grandmother would always respond in her thick accent: “<em> I gradi non ti rendono un buon fornaio, l'esperienza lo fa.” </em> (“Degrees don’t make you a good baker, experience does).”</p><p> </p><p>Sofie didn’t give up though, and would often bake at her apartment, trying out new techniques and recipes that she would bring to share with the other bakery workers or her eldery landlord, Mr. McCallum. Anytime her grandmother tasted what she made, she would simply just raise an eyebrow and grunt “<em>Mmph</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>She locked the store door behind her, adjusting her purse on her shoulder and began to walk home. She felt lucky that the bakery was only a fifteen minute walk from her flat in Primrose Hill, and as the evening was clear and cool, she took her time getting home.  As she approached her building she noticed a moving van in front of the very expensive and exclusive townhouses across the street. Mr. McCallum was in his usual spot, sitting on the steps of her building, his pug Winston at his feet and smoking his pipe, as his wife didn’t like for him to do it inside the house.</p><p> </p><p>“Evening, Mr. McCallum,” she said, reaching down to give Winston a scratch on his head as he panted happily.</p><p> </p><p>“Evening, Sofie,” he said, immediately eyeing the pink bakery box she had in her hand. “Got leftovers for me?”</p><p> </p><p>She looked down at her hand, forgetting for a moment she even had the box and then held it out to him with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Yep, Amaretti cookies.”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled, eagerly accepting the box. “Did you make these?”</p><p> </p><p>“No - Nonna did.”</p><p> </p><p>He <em> tsked </em> softly. “Shame. Oh, don’t get me wrong dear, I love your grandmums baking but yours ispis the best I’ve ever had.”</p><p> </p><p>Sofie chuckled. “Aww, thank you. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were just trying to stroke my ego so I’ll keep giving you goodies.”</p><p> </p><p>Mr. McCallum wiggled his bushy, white eyebrows playfully as he bit into one of the cookies. “Nothing wrong with trying to keep a good thing going.”</p><p> </p><p>All of a sudden, they heard a shout from across the street and both of them immediately swiveled their heads at the source of the noise. They saw three moving men bellowing commands as they all worked to navigate a very expensive and heavy looking wardrobe up the front stairs of the building.</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s moving in?” Sofie asked.</p><p> </p><p>Mr. McCallum grunted dismissively. “No idea, but heard it’s some famous actor. You know who used to live there?”</p><p> </p><p>Sofie shook her head.</p><p> </p><p>“Adele,” he said. “Lovely girl. Always said hi to me whenever she came or went. So, what are you trying out in your kitchen tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>Sofie smiled. Mr. McCallum knew she always baked something at home every night, trying out new recipes and techniques, either from stuff she would see in cook books, magazines, or YouTube videos.</p><p> </p><p>“Blood Orange and Meyer Lemon Macarons,” she replied with a hint of a grin.</p><p> </p><p>“Cor, that sounds bloody scrumptious,” Mr. McCallum said, his eyes lighting up.</p><p> </p><p>Sofie patted his shoulder as she started walking up the stairs to her building. “Don’t worry, old man, you’re already getting some.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, you brilliant girl.”</p><p> </p><p>Sofie walked the two flights up to her flat, taking out her keys and unlocking the door. She let out a sigh of relief to be home. Her place wasn’t huge, especially considering the rent her neighborhood commanded. It was a studio with one bathroom - she didn’t even have a proper bedroom, just a kind of half wall that cut the living room and kitchen area off from it. But her kitchen though. The kitchen made the tiny flat all worthwhile as it was abnormally large for a studio - it had a full-sized fridge, plenty of cabinets, large gas range, dishwasher, and a built-in island that was the perfect size for working on. Every time she set eyes on it, it made her happy. It really was a great kitchen for a baker.</p><p> </p><p>She set her jacket and keys down in the entryway, shucking off her shoes. Her mobile dinged and she went to retrieve it from her purse, immediately feeling her blood boil when she saw it was from Max.</p><p> </p><p><strong>M: THIS IGNORING ME IS GETTING REALLY OLD SOFIE. </strong> <strong>I’M COMING BY AT THE END OF THE WEEK TO GET MY ALBUMS WHETHER YOU’RE HOME OR NOT.</strong></p><p> </p><p>Sofie cursed under her breath and threw the phone onto the couch. Max was the last person she wanted to see, especially after breaking up with him two weeks ago after walking in on him getting a blow job from a bottle dye job blonde in a movie theater bathroom. Feeling herself getting choked up at the memory, she moved over to her record player, flipping through her albums to carefully vet this evening's selection. After a minute or so, she finally settled on <em> Led Zeppelin IV </em>, gently slipping it out of its sleeve and placing it on her dad’s old red Westinghouse record player. Piling her thick, black hair up into a bun as the opening chords of “The Battle of Evermore” started, she slipped her gray chef’s apron over her head and, with a deep breath, began pulling her ingredients out.</p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>Tom sighed, running a hand through his brownish-blonde, close-cropped curls. The movers had finally finished for the day, and suddenly he was hit with how silent his new flat really was. Cardboard boxes were strewn everywhere, and as he looked around, he felt slightly daunted at the unpacking that inevitably lay before him. </p><p> </p><p>Though he wasn’t looking forward to unpacking his life again, he was glad for a new start in a new neighborhood. He liked his old neighborhood and had lived there for many years, but as he started getting more and more well-known, his place started to become a frequent target for paps and some of his more insistent fans.  Tom valued quiet and privacy above all things, and his old place had definitely lost both of those desirable qualities. He made the move to Primrose Hill specifically as it was an area that consisted mostly of older residents and families, while still being a short tube ride away from the theater district and his manager's office.</p><p> </p><p>Tom made his way upstairs to the second level, complete with a study, guest bedroom and bathroom, as well as the master bedroom and bathroom. Walking into his bedroom, he noticed that his telescope had already been brought in and was sitting against one of the walls. With a polished, dark walnut tripod accented in brass and an elegant scope, also consisting of flawless, highly-polished brass, it had been Tom’s gift to himself after making the first Thor movie. Most people who saw the elegant instrument figured it was merely decorative, something that most sophisticated British gentleman would have in their homes. However, it was anything but innocuous for Tom. </p><p> </p><p>Tom had known he was a dom since his early twenties. One night, after a particular wild night out on the razz, he had ended up chatting with two extremely buxom ladies who were in their early thirties at a local bar.  After they downed a round of drinks, the ladies promptly took him to their place for a threesome, which Tom was more than happy to accommodate, since it would technically be his first. What he didn’t realize was that they were both mistresses (though now in hindsight their clothing and mannerisms should have been a dead giveaway).  The two ladies dominated Tom for the evening, but were admittedly easy on him when they realized it was his first time being topped. But when they suggested that they try switching roles, he felt something inside him awaken. The ladies guided him through his first dom experience with practiced hands, knowing he was naturally apprehensive at first. But several orgasms later, both women agreed he was a natural and gave him their phone number should he want to pursue it more. They made it clear that because they were mistresses themselves, they would be available purely on an instructional basis only and would ensure to find good sub matches for him to gain experience with.  At first, he was reluctant to take them up on their offer. He was slightly ashamed as to what all meant - was he perverted or sick because he liked to do these things?  Tom grew up in a strong, female-dominated household. He was raised to be a gentleman and he strongly believed in feminism and equal rights, but he couldn’t deny the rush of control and desire he felt when he had dominated those women. It didn’t feel strange or unnatural to him - rather, it felt like someone had handed him the answers to the questions he had been asking himself for most of his life. </p><p> </p><p>He ended up calling the ladies again and was glad he did. They were a wealth of knowledge on dom/sub relationships and patiently answered every question and listened to every insecurity Tom had about the subject. They took him through the basics of bondage, orgasm denial, breath play, and he was able to explore those elements and more with a regular sub partner that the ladies had helped match him with. Everything was talked about and consented to ahead of time and Tom was grateful the girl had trusted him and the ladies to lead her through some very intense scenes. After almost two years of regular tutelage under the mistresses, Tom could suspend a sub with only three knots and keep her on the edge of orgasm for nearly 18 hours. Though he didn’t see the ladies anymore, he still sent them white roses every year on the anniversary of their first meeting as a thank you. Tom had gone to the best universities and academies money could buy, but those women taught him more in a year and a half than all of his academic pursuits combined. </p><p> </p><p>One lesson in particular Tom took away was something that Mistress Laila had said to him: “BDSM is often about kink, but everyone doesn’t find their TRUE kink until they are already inside of it.”  For a while, Tom didn’t know what she meant, until one time when he met the ladies at a private BDSM club they were members of. He had never been to a BDSM club and was a little nervous as to what to expect. Mistress Laila and Mistress Gretchen both assured him that privacy and discretion were a top priority for the owners and the members, so he didn’t need to worry about being exposed there.  </p><p> </p><p>“This is going to be your final lesson, Tom,” Mistress Gretchen said as they surveyed the crowd gathered that night. “Can you tell me what the four main tenets of being a good dom are?”</p><p> </p><p>Tom didn’t hesitate, listing them off one by one. “Push boundaries but respect limits, trust is always the first priority, your partner’s submission is a privilege not a right, and honesty is compulsory, not optional.”</p><p> </p><p>“Very good, Tom. So, for tonight, you will demonstrate what you have learned in your time with me and Mistress Laila.”</p><p> </p><p>Tom noticed she gestured to an area of the main room that was already being set up by Mistress Laila. There was a St. Andrews Cross, as well as a padded table underneath a ceiling rig outfitted with multiple hooks and carabiners, as well as a long, angled mirror. Mistress Laila was placing various toys and instruments, among them a Hitachi wand and nipple clamps on a small stand next to the padded table. Tom noticed that several people were already taking seats around the area in anticipation of the demonstration and he took a deep breath. He had never done anything like this in such a public setting, and though he knew his identity was well-protected here, he was still nervous.</p><p> </p><p>Mistress Gretchen seemed to sense this, and placed a perfectly manicured, red-lacquered hand on his arm.</p><p> </p><p>“You will be fine. We didn’t want to throw you any additional curve-balls, so Claire will be your sub for the demonstration.”</p><p> </p><p>Tom relaxed instantly. Claire had been his sub since the beginning and they had built a strong trust in their time together. She was beautiful and very responsive to him, and he could already feel his cock begin to twitch in anticipation as he watched her walk in from a side door at that very moment, hair in a high ponytail and wearing only a red silk robe.  There was a large pillow set on the ground in full view of the room, and she promptly made her way over to it, quickly shucking her garment before she knelt on it, nude, with her knees spread apart. </p><p> </p><p>Tom instantly felt himself go into dom space, his breathing deeper and more measured, his posture more upright and commanding. Going into his dom space was like going into an acting role, but infinitely more natural for him. It was the other side of his charming, chivalrous, and romantic side - his dark passenger. </p><p> </p><p>Mistress Gretchen smiled, sensing the change come over him and she patted his arm as he walked over to the demonstration area. As soon as he stepped into the area, his nerves vanished, despite all the eyes on him in that moment. It was like taking the stage, that sudden rush of adrenaline and anticipation he always got before a performance. It would actually make him hard every single time, so over the years he had to enlist some relaxation techniques so that he didn’t go out on stage with a raging and extremely inappropriate boner. Thankfully, this time the boner would actually be befitting of the situation.</p><p> </p><p>He moved over to where Claire was kneeling, her hands clasped behind her back, making her lovely breasts jut out at attention. Her eyes were cast downwards, but he could see her eyelashes fluttering in anticipation, a lovely flush coloring her cheeks and breasts.</p><p> </p><p>“My, my,” Tom purred, walking around her slowly. “What do we have here? Such a delicious looking little pet,” he said, as he lightly ran a finger across her smooth clavicle, making her shudder slightly. “Have you been a good little girl for me?”</p><p> </p><p>Claire nodded. “Y-y-yes,” she stuttered out.</p><p> </p><p>Tom stopped next to her and lifted her chin sharply with his index finger. “Yes, what pet?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Sir.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s better,” he purred, gently swiping his thumb over her pouty bottom lip and moving it down over her pulse point, which trembled beneath his touch. “Let’s see just how good a girl you can be for your Sir, shall we?”</p><p> </p><p>He strode over the small stand that held the various toys and instruments that Mistress Laila had laid out earlier, strumming his fingers in the air over the possibilities in front of him.  Rolling his black dress shirt up to his elbows, he finally selected a pair of nipple clamps and a riding crop before walking back over to Claire.</p><p> </p><p>“Open, pet,” he said, running the thin leather of the crop across her mouth. She instantly complied, opening her mouth wide as he placed the thin rod of the crop sideways in her mouth, gently urging it closed with a touch of his knuckles under her chin. </p><p> </p><p>“My good girl, you look so aroused already” he cooed, gently stroking her honey-colored hair soothingly as she moaned softly at the praise. “But, I’m afraid I can’t say the same for these lovely nipples,” he<em> tsked</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Tom moved over to a small ice bucket Mistress Laila had provided next to the toys and grabbed an ice cube out of it. </p><p> </p><p>“Let’s see if we can coax these sweet little nipples out to play,” Tom growled, running the edge of a cube over one pink areola. Claire groaned, fighting to keep the crop between her teeth as Tom watched the pink flesh tighten and engorge. He couldn’t resist and quickly bent down, sucking the now hardened bud into his mouth and releasing it with a pop. Making quick work of the other nipple, he stood back and admired his handiwork.</p><p> </p><p>“Beautiful, my little pet,” he murmured. “These tender little buds are ready for their Sir now.”</p><p> </p><p>Claire squeaked slightly as he placed the nipple clamps on her.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh dear,” he said, shaking his head and moving over to the table again. “It appears my pet has a hard time keeping quiet even with a crop in her mouth.”</p><p> </p><p>He picked up a length of red Shibari rope as well as a ball gag. </p><p> </p><p>“Pets that can’t be quiet need to be punished, don’t they little one?” he said, quickly wrapping a hand around the length of her ponytail, yanking her head back to look at him.</p><p> </p><p>Claire nodded quickly, and Tom could see how dilated her pupils were. Looking down, he could see her pussy was flushed and glistening with arousal. </p><p> </p><p>“Open, pet,” he said, as she quickly complied, panting slightly. Tom set the riding crop down and placed the ball gag in her mouth, securing it around the back of her head.</p><p> </p><p>“Everything green, little one? Remember, click twice for green, once for red.”</p><p> </p><p>Claire snapped her fingers twice, indicating she was okay. Tom wasn’t worried about the ball gag interfering with her breathing, as it had a little hole in the front to allow air through.</p><p> </p><p>“Good girl,” he praised. Grabbing the Shibari rope, he quickly tied her elbows and wrists behind her back, looping the rope around her waist and under her breasts, making them engorge and stand out horizontally. He stood back, admiring his handiwork.</p><p> </p><p>“Exquisite,” he purred. </p><p> </p><p>Taking the crop in hand, he circled around her, lightly teasing the leather end across her breasts.</p><p> </p><p>“I believe ten slaps would be appropriate for you to learn how to be quiet,” Tom mused, continuing to caress her skin with the crop. </p><p> </p><p>He then suddenly brought the leather crop down on her now-swollen pussy lips and Claire jerked slightly forward, a soft moan escaping from down deep in her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Keep quiet, my filthy slut or I will add ten more slaps to your punishment.”</p><p> </p><p>She looked up at him and nodded, her eyes glassy with arousal now. Tom brought the crop down again and again on her now-dripping pussy, and he could see Claire’s thighs shaking with effort. </p><p> </p><p>“Almost done, pet,” he cooed. “You are taking your punishment very well, but if you come I will give you twenty more across your lovely tits.”</p><p> </p><p>He watched Claire’s pleading eyes and he chuckled softly to himself. He knew she was so close. The ninth slap sounding with a wet smack, and Tom groaned, palming himself through his pants. Tom was absolutely rock hard, more turned on than he had ever been in his life, but not exactly sure as to why. He had done this kind of play with Claire before, some even more extreme than this, but there was a different element that Tom felt like was at play this time in particular. He then looked up and saw the crowd around them, rapt in attention at their demonstration. There was a woman now giving an enthusiastic blow job to a man who was watching their scene with lidded eyes and another woman in the audience who had thrown her legs over the arms of her chair and was fucking her flushed pussy with her fingers. Tom’s cock twitched painfully as he realized what was so damn arousing this time around. He had an audience. And not only that, but seeing these people engaging in such public sexual acts because of what he was doing was an even bigger thrill. </p><p> </p><p>That was the moment he knew. He was a voyeur.</p><p> </p><p>He felt a rush of adrenaline at that moment, and on the 10th smack of her glistening pussy, he dropped the crop and unzipped his pants, his large cock springing out, angry and red, lightly slapping Claire’s cheek in the progress. </p><p> </p><p>“Such a good pet taking her punishment so well,” he intoned, now more conscious than ever of the vast array of sexual acts now in progress because of their display. “Now, thank your Sir.”</p><p> </p><p>He removed the ball gag and Claire instantly attacked his cock with a relieved moan, licking and sucking down over his length eagerly, her arms still bound behind her back. Tom groaned in pleasure, using every ounce of his resolve to hold on as long as possible to make it even better for himself and the audience, because what the audience didn’t know was that if his cock hit the back of Claire’s throat just right during oral, it would trigger her orgasm. He had pleasantly found this out fairly early on during their sessions. She had apparently trained for awhile by sticking her fingers down her throat during orgasms. By doing this over and over, she was able to actually set off her orgasm by giving head and not even touching herself. It was hot as fuck and Tom knew that’s exactly what was going to happen.</p><p> </p><p>He had her hair wrapped around his fist, controlling her movements up and down his cock. Her mouth was like lava and her tongue snaked around his sensitive underside hungrily. </p><p> </p><p>“Do not cum until I tell you, slut” he growled, the wet popping and slurping sounds coming from her throat testing his resolve more than ever. </p><p> </p><p>He locked eyes with a woman in the audience who was bouncing up and down vigorously on a large cock. Her mouth was open and her eyes were wide with desire as she bottomed out, watching Tom and Claire. Tom’s jaw clenched as he looked at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Remember, pet - your orgasm belongs to me,” he rumbled darkly, staring at the woman. “You do not come until I say so.”</p><p> </p><p>He felt Claire nod, her mouth still packed full of his cock, and he was doubly aroused to see the woman in the audience nod in agreement at his words too. The idea that he was pleasuring two women at the same time, one just by watching him, was intensely erotic. She may be riding another man’s dick, but Tom knew in that moment it was him that was really getting that woman off. </p><p> </p><p>Tom moved his hand down to Claire’s throat, squeezing the sides of it expertly. He was proud of the fact that he now knew how to properly and safely choke a sub during play. He could feel his length filling her mouth. She was now moaning around his cock, her eyes tearing with effort and he knew she was ready. And so was he.</p><p> </p><p>He thrust hard into her mouth with a shout, his length hitting the back of her throat with an audible “pop."</p><p> </p><p>He locked eyes with the woman again. “Come now for your Sir!” he roared, and Claire (and the woman) obeyed immediately. Tom felt Claire’s throat squeeze around him as she orgasmed, milking his cock so that he instantly spurt down her throat as she bucked, squirting all over the floor. The woman bouncing on the cock shrieked as she came herself, and Tom heard several people audibly gasp upon seeing Claire come by just getting deep-throated. </p><p> </p><p>Tom had never come so hard in his life before that night, and he knew deep down it was all because he had been watched and had watched others himself. It made so much sense, it was practically laughable. He was an actor, after all. He had made a career out of his passion for performing for others. It just made sense that it would also touch on his sexual proclivities as well.</p><p> </p><p>After that night, Tom fully started to explore his voyeuristic tendencies. Unfortunately, it was around the same time he started to get more and more famous. He couldn’t risk a girlfriend going to the press and blabbing out his sexual kinks. He was notoriously private and preferred to stay that way. So, the only option really open to him was exclusive sex clubs and private escorts. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only way for him to indulge privately in his fantasies without risking exposure.  Sure, he had girlfriends he had done some mild voyeuristic stuff with - taping themselves having sex (always making sure to erase it afterwards), etc., but it never went much further than that. The very few he had opened up to about doing more had always recoiled in horror and shut him flat down.  It was hard for Tom. He wanted so much to share his life and his fantasies with someone who would not only accept him, but also want those fantasies as well. Fame was already so isolating, and being a voyeur just made it worse. He was thankful he was at least able to indulge once in awhile, but it was never enough.</p><p> </p><p>Tom was running his finger along the polished brass of the telescope when a movement out of his window caught his eye. Looking out, he noticed a young woman in the flat directly across the street from his. She was moving gracefully across the small expanse of her apartment, reaching up in cabinets and sliding to pull things out of drawers in her kitchen. It looked like she was singing and dancing along with some kind of music Tom couldn’t hear and he chuckled softly as she belted particularly boisterously at one point into a red rubber spatula like she was performing at Royal Albert Hall. </p><p> </p><p>He quickly swung the telescope around so that it faced into her flat and bent down to get a better look. A soft <em> whoosh </em> of air escaped his lips as he saw her magnified through his eyepiece. She had a soft gray apron on, and her rosy cheeks were dusted lightly with flour, as well as her thick mane of jet-black curls, which was piled high on top of her head. He could see her large, chocolate-brown eyes sparkle in joy as she mixed something in a large bowl, her very shapely hips still swinging along to the silent music she played. She was nothing short of exquisite. It was hard to tell how old she was, as her soft features and rosy cheeks made her seem young, but Tom figured she was probably at least in her early to mid-twenties. Though she was wearing an apron, there was no doubt as to the body she had underneath it, especially the way the top part seemed to be straining across her breasts.  </p><p><br/><em> Fuck, she’s incredible </em> , he thought, reaching down to palm himself briefly through his pants. <em> Now, I’m REALLY glad I moved here </em> . <em> This place just got a lot more interesting. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Canelés</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's Valentine's Day and Tom learns a little more about his lovely new neighbor.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A few weeks later, Sofie walked home after a particularly long day at the bakery. They had a rush on their cupcakes as it was Valentine’s Day, and by the time they closed, they had sold out of not only all of their cupcakes, but pretty much everything else as well.  She was exhausted and feeling particularly depressed after seeing all the boyfriends and husbands come in to buy Valentine’s goodies for their girlfriends and wives. All Sofie wanted to do was go home, take a hot bath, open up a good bottle of wine and just wait for this stupid holiday to pass. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she finally came up to her building, Mr. McCallum was sitting there as usual with Winston.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Happy Valentine’s, Sofie!” he said, smiling at her as she stopped in front of the stairs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Happy Valentine’s, Mr. McCallum, though sadly, I don’t have a Valentine to speak of this year.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looked affronted. “A gorgeous bird like you not have a Valentine? That’s ridiculous! I’d figure you’d have to beat them off with a whisk!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie laughed bitterly. “I wish, but sadly, it’s true.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, now you can say you have a Valentine,” he said, reaching down next to him and bringing up a little velvet red heart candy box. “Here - I wish I could bake you something, since you are always doing that for me, but figured these would do instead.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie felt herself tearing up a little at his gesture as she took the box from him with a trembling smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, you sentimental old sod,” she said, bending down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t let Mary know you gave me these..”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hehehe, she won’t care, we have an open marriage.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie laughed, thrusting a pink box at him. “Here you dirty old man - managed to save some </span>
  <em>
    <span>canele’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you. Any update on the new tenant across the street?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Apparently he’s some famous actor. Good-looking fellow from what I’ve heard.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie rolled her eyes as she started up the steps. “That’s all we need in this neighborhood - a narcissistic pretty-boy who’s going to bring the paparazzi here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t be so negative - it gives you premature wrinkles!” Mr. McCallum shouted playfully after her, as she closed the front door behind here with a laugh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>About an hour later, Sofie had opened up a lovely Oregon Pinot Noir, listening to New Order as she rolled out fresh sheets of pasta dough for her tagliatelle with English peas, sausage and fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano. Even though she wished she had someone special in her life, particularly on a day like this, she was glad she also didn’t have anyone to answer to. Max always criticized her passion for food and baking, many times not-so-subtly using it to pick at her weight. It wasn’t that Sofie was overweight by any means, but she didn’t exactly feel terribly confident in her looks, especially after Max’s constant put-downs. She didn’t know if there was a real Saint Valentine, but as she tucked into her dinner that night, she closed her eyes and sent up a little prayer that she might find someone who loved her just for her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>******</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Across the street, Tom sat in his leather swivel chair, slowly rotating his glass of Jameson around so that the ice softly clinked inside it. He had returned from taking his mom and sister Emma out for an early Valentine’s dinner, glad he didn’t have a girlfriend to worry about on this nonsense day. He had thought about calling up one of his regular escorts, but the idea just depressed him more than excited him. Besides, when he saw his luscious new neighbor’s light come on, he realized he’d much rather see what she was up to.  It was strange how excited he found himself getting every time he saw that light come on now. He’d been watching her for a few weeks and knew he had to have her. She was intriguing to him - whether she was doing dishes, talking on the phone, or baking - he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Once or twice, he’d even been lucky enough to see her do yoga in her living room, those delectable curves outlined in sharp relief by a tight sports bra and gray leggings that split her peachy ass right down the middle. He couldn’t help himself and had immediately yanked his cock out, quickly coming with a low moan over his hand as he watched her bend and flex enticingly. It felt slightly pervy, sure, but he hadn’t even tried to see her naked. Lord knows, he had the opportunity. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Last week, Tom had been looking over a script in his study when he noticed movement out of his window. He watched as his lovely neighbor walked across her flat, massaging her neck and slightly grimacing. He wondered what she did for a living and how stressful it was as she seemed to always look exhausted when she came home. The only time she really looked happy to him was when she was in her kitchen, cooking. She shucked her jacket off, revealing a simple, white, button-up blouse and a knee-length skirt with black poppies on it. Tom stood up and slowly made his way over to his telescope, looking through the lens as she sat down on her couch. She pulled her black Mary Janes off, Tom sucking in his breath as soon as he saw them, already feeling himself hardening in his jeans.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So sweet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder if she has “little” tendencies.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She stood up, moving behind herself to unzip her skirt, letting it fall to the floor, leaving her in just black tights and her white oxford shirt. She took her hair down from her ponytail, shaking out her shiny mane of dark curls. Tom groaned. He had never seen hair as beautiful as hers, and he found himself constantly obsessing over how it would feel to touch, to have it wrapped around his fist in a glossy wrap of black silk. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He licked his lips as she rolled her black tights down, revealing smooth, shapely, milk-white legs. They weren’t particularly long, and in fact, she appeared to be no taller than 5’5 at the most, but that only added to her appeal for Tom. He loved a partner he could pick up, toss around, feel like he towered over. Especially if she was a little. He had never had the desire before to be called daddy, but imagining it coming from this exquisite creature made him purr low in his chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She stood up, bringing her hands up to unbutton her blouse. It took every ounce of self-control for Tom to look away, especially seeing how the buttons strained against her breasts. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to see her until I can unwrap her myself.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After a minute or two, he allowed himself to look back and she was gone. That night, he had fallen asleep absentmindedly stroking his cock imagining her splayed out underneath him, her naked body flush and begging for release.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie was stretched out in her bathtub, ensconced in the relaxing scent of her lavender and chamomile bath salts, her glass of pinot noir sitting on the tile floor next to her. She felt herself slightly drifting off when she heard an insistent knock at her front door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Who the fuck could that be</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought, standing up with a groan and wrapping a large white towel around herself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The knocking became louder and she huffed irritably. “Okay, okay, I’m coming!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reaching the door, she looked through her peephole and found a sour-faced Max standing there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She flung the door open, and Max immediately breezed on in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Max, what the hell are you doing here?” she said, tightening her towel around her more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Max barely cast a glance at her before proceeding over to her record stand, flipping through her collection of albums.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you, I was coming to get my albums whether you were home or not, Sofie.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you really had to do this on Valentine’s Day, Max?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stood up and finally faced her, his expression stony. “It’s the end of the week, Sofie, it has nothing to do with it being Valentine’s Day - though I do need to do this quickly since Jacinda is waiting for me down in the car.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie felt her blood start to boil. “You brought your date with you to get your albums from your ex? Wow, she better hold onto you, Max - you’re a keeper.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Max scoffed, taking out several albums and loading them into his arms. “You’re just bitter, Sofie,” he spat. “You live in this little bubble, so afraid to come out of it that you don’t move forward in your life in any way. You’re too scared to. I can’t be with someone who is too scared to take risks in their life.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And I suppose your definition of ‘taking risks’ is getting a blow job in a movie theater bathroom?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Max rolled his eyes, adjusting his pile of albums in his arms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not what I’m saying, but I’d be lying if that wasn’t part of it, Sof,” he said. “You never wanted to try anything outside your little missionary comfort zone, and I’m sorry, but I need more than that - most guys need more than that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Though she was trying to keep up a tough exterior in front of him, she felt hot tears of humiliation start to bubble up in the corners of her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bloody hell, Sof, don’t cry,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “It’s just so manipulative.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie’s lip trembled slightly. With a deep breath, she mustered as much strength as she could to not break down in front of him and opened the front door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You have your albums, Max. Don’t keep Jacinda waiting.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He walked out without another word, Sofie slamming the door behind him. Immediately, her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor, sobbing. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>******</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom sat back in his chair after seeing the dark-haired guy leave his beauty’s apartment. He watched as she fell to the ground, her towel still around her as she cried against the front door.  By watching their exchange and her reaction, he guessed the guy was an ex boyfriend, or at least he hoped he was an ex. He obviously seemed to hold very little regard for the girl. When she had emerged, clad only in a towel, Tom had let out an involuntary hiss. While she was covered from under her arms down to her knees, the sight of that dewy, milky flesh on display made him uncomfortably hard. He imagined the sight of that perfect pale skin marked by love bites, marking her as his.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He watched their conversation, seeing her full pouty lips tremble in emotion at his words and instantly wanted to punch the guy for making her upset.  When she finally broke down upon his exit, Tom felt such a strong pull to run across the street and see if she was okay, he had to stop himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t know this girl</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he chided himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t even know her name</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Looking through his telescope, he watched as she shakily got back up on her feet, rubbing her now red-rimmed eyes. As an actor, Tom had prided himself for being able to read people - their personalities, emotions - sometimes before they could even say a word. Reading his neighbor, Tom had surmised that she was likely shy with other people, but a bubbly spitfire behind the safety of her apartment walls. She seemed to be a very talented baker, and part of him wondered if it was maybe part of what she did for a living. Finally, she seemed to be a very lonely person - she never had any visitors before tonight and she didn’t seem to be on the phone very much. There was also an air of sadness that seemed to be around her most of the time.  It both baffled and intrigued Tom. The idea that this gorgeous, fascinating creature could be so lonely. It made him want her all the more. In his heart, Tom was a caregiver and this woman already was bringing out his protective side. All he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and shelter her from harm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But first, he had to meet her. He wasn’t sure how he was going to pull that off, but he at least had to try.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Canele Recipe: https://tasteofartisan.com/canele/</p>
<p>Sofie's Lonely Hearts Tagliatelle :https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/tagliatelle-with-smashed-peas-sausage-and-ricotta-cheese-recipe-1955733</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Almond Crossiants</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tom and Sofie finally come face to face.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By the time March rolled around, rehearsals started for Tom’s new play at the Donmar Warehouse and he was excited to start it. Acting was his passion, and theater was the lifeblood of it. He loved nothing more than the excitement and fear of being in front of a live audience, making manifest the exquisite writing of some of the world’s greatest playwrights.  He was thankful that his new flat was closer to the theater, as he loved to walk and take in the neighborhood, mulling over dialogue and characterization in his head with a cup of coffee in hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was heading to the Donmar on a Wednesday, and even though spring was on the horizon, the morning air still held a chill to it, and he was glad he had left the house with his peacoat and scarf. What he had neglected, however, was breakfast, and he thought to pop in somewhere along the way. He had passed by a lovely looking bakery a few times and decided to see if he could grab something there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few blocks later, he came up to the robin’s egg blue storefront, the words “Primrose Bakery” stenciled in fading gold on the outside. Grabbing the door handle, he stepped inside and was immediately hit with the warm scent of vanilla and pastry. Inhaling deeply, he stood a little ways back from the small crowd of early-morning commuters ordering their scones and danish to tide them over on their way to work. Bending down at one of the display cases, Tom’s mouth practically watered at the variety of row after row of perfect pastries. Tom had always had a sweet tooth - it was one of the more acceptable vices publicly known about him. He had stopped in front of a row of perfectly golden, glistening almond croissants and suddenly heard a sweet voice above him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom looked up and to his absolute shock, saw his dark-haired goddess from across the street. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy shit, she works here? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tom couldn’t believe his luck.  She looked even more incredible up close - her thick, black curls were pulled back in a ponytail, and she had a soft gray linen smock covering a white, cap-sleeved dress dotted with tiny strawberries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So fucking sweet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, having to bite back a growl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He recovered quickly, trying to keep the shock off his face as he flashed a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, one of your almond croissants, please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She flashed a lovely smile that made her enormous chocolate brown eyes sparkle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good choice,” she said. “We just brought those out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom stood, watching her graceful movements as she grabbed a small brown paper bag and a white bakery tissue, selected a perfect-looking almond croissant, and slipped it into the bag. Tom nervously licked his lips, trying not to show his shock and excitement at seeing her here. Up close, he was now able to see more details of her - the light spattering of freckles across the apples of her cheeks, the way her long eyelashes fluttered against her pale skin, the sweet dimple that appeared on her right cheek when she smiled. Tom had to ball his fists up, so strong was the urge he had to reach out and touch her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She handed him the paper bag, and he looked at her in surprise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s still warm!” he said, smiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Told you - we just brought those out. That will be £3.50.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom reached for his billfold slowly, trying to delay leaving as much as possible before he at least got a name out of her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is a lovely bakery - is it yours?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled meekly. “No, it’s my </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nona’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> - my grandmothers. I just help her out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s lovely, I’m sure she appreciates it. Do you get to help bake all these as well?”, Tom asked, gesturing to the goodies on display.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sofia bit her lower lip, her eyes fluttering to the ground briefly, and Tom wondered if he had hit a sore spot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I just help out with running the place right now, but I’m hoping someday she’ll let me help with the baking.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ahhh.</span>
  </em>
  <span>..he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That explains it. Being held back from her full potential. No wonder she always came home and baked with a look on her face that was utter pure joy. Baking is obviously a passion for her that she doesn’t get to explore except at home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom flashed her a charming smile. “Well, I hope she does too. I’m sure you’re very talented.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sofie blushed, and the sight of that rosy flush blooming across her cheeks was enough to make Tom’s cock twitch painfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you and your Nona live in the area?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual, as he handed over the money to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My Nona lives above the shop, but I’m a few blocks away on Chamberlain Street,” she replied, handing him back his change.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No kidding, I live on Chamberlain Street too. I actually just moved there. I’m Tom, by the way,” he said, extending his hand over the counter to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled shyly, and reached her hand over, allowing Tom to shake it slowly, but firmly. It felt so small and delicate in his own and he felt a spark of desire run down his arm at the contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m Sofie,” she squeaked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very lovely to meet you Sofie,” Tom purred, finally releasing her hand. “I hope to see you around the neighborhood.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sofie bit back a smile and looked at him shyly. “You too, Tom - enjoy the croissant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom smiled and walked out, keeping an eye on Sofie as he did, noticing she watched him intently the whole time.  He felt elated he had finally been able to see, and speak, and touch her in the flesh, and knew without a shadow of a doubt now that he wanted her. As he headed towards the Donmar with a renewed spring in his step, he pulled the croissant out of the bag and took a bite. He groaned as the warm, sweet, flaky pastry melted in his mouth, and couldn’t help but think that if her pussy tasted half as incredible as this croissant, he’d die a happy man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sofie walked her usual route home that night, swinging her little pink pastry box full of pistachio-cream cannolis for Mr. McCallum. But all of her thoughts were on the handsome man who had stopped into the shop this morning. After he had told her that he had just moved to her street, she immediately wondered if he was the new guy across from her building. He didn’t say if he was an actor, but Sofie figured it couldn’t be a coincidence that he was new to the neighborhood and that the actor had just moved in across the street from her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t get her mind off of his dazzling smile and brilliant blue eyes. He had a classic elegance about him, and she could tell he was well-mannered and educated by the way he spoke and carried himself. Her pulse fluttered when she remembered how his large, strong hand engulfed hers, making her feel warm and gooey in her stomach. As she approached her building, so many questions ran through her mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did he have a girlfriend? A wife? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She didn’t see a ring on his finger. She remembered the way he squeezed her hand a bit longer than was really necessary and how he kept his eyes on her the whole way as he was leaving. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr. McCallum smiled at her as she approached and Winston perked up at his feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Evening Mr. McCallum,” she said, holding out the pastry box to him, and bending down to scratch Winston behind the ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Evening, Sofie,” Mr. McCallum responded, quickly opening a corner of the box to see what was inside. “Well, you appear to be in a good mood tonight - oh, cannolis, my favorite!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sofie chuckled. “Thought you might like those.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unable to stop himself, he pulled a cannoli out and took a bite, groaning happily. “Incredible,” he said. “Is it too much to hope you made these?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“These I did make,” she said smiling proudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr. McCallum shook his head. “It’s a crime to be making these for one cranky old man instead of all of London, dear. You have a gift, you need to use it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sofie smiled softly. “Thank you. Any more on the new guy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr. McCallum grunted in affirmation, his mouth full of pastry and cream. He finally swallowed and pointed across the street. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I actually just spotted him for the first time tonight coming in - handsome looking bloke.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sofie’s heart started to race. “Really? What does he look like?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tall, very tall,” he said thoughtfully. “Short, brown hair and he was wearing gray shoes with dark denim pants and a navy peacoat with a red scarf.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my God, it IS him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought, remembering the outfit he was wearing in her shop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, well I better head upstairs,” she said, giving Winston a quick scratch. “Have a good night, Mr. McCallum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You too, Sofie - and thanks again for the cannoli.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later that night, Sofie laid in bed, willing herself to go to sleep and failing miserably. All she could think about was the man across the street. She had tried to see if she could catch a glimpse of him through his windows that were directly across from hers, but only the downstairs light was on and the curtain was pulled. She couldn’t stop thinking of his smile, the way it had made his impossibly clear, blue eyes crinkle up at the sides. How velvety his voice was, and that each time he spoke, it sent little shivers down her spine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She kicked her covers off with a huff. As a now-single woman, Sofie had replaced her previous in-a-relationship bedtime attire of lingerie and silk and satin teddies in favor of a worn “Italians Do It Better” t-shirt and little cotton panties dotted with pink donuts. She absentmindedly stroked across the thin skin where the waistband of her panties sat, thinking of him, of Tom. Remembering the warmth and strength of his hand as it took hers, she felt a little shutter of arousal course through her. Closing her eyes, she sighed as she moved her small hand up the soft expanse of her stomach, imagining that it was Tom touching her. She let out a small sigh, picturing his large hands moving over her breasts, his fingertips brushing and playfully plucking at her hardened nipples as he moved over her. Practically feeling his mouth sucking and nibbling at her breasts, she moved her hand down inside her panties, her fingers instantly soaked with slick as she found her swollen folds, stimulating her straining clit as she imagined Tom between her legs, filling her up. She moaned, giving herself over to the fantasy as she plunged her fingers inside her needy pussy, moaning his name as she bucked and twitched with her orgasm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the street, in the dark, Tom watched his beautiful neighbor bring herself off, her full, pouty mouth dropped open in arousal, skin flushed, writhing and shaking like a goddess of pleasure come to earth. Even in an old t-shirt and little donut panties she was the sexiest thing he had ever seen, and obviously very responsive. He couldn’t hear her, but he could tell she was saying something over and over and when he realized by the way her mouth was moving it could very easily be “Tom” he growled. That did him in, and he quickly shucked off his pants, stroking his cock quickly until he spurted ropes of cum across the window in front of him, imagining he was marking Sofie instead of the glass. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Almond Croissant recipe: https://tutti-dolci.com/almond-croissants/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Puits d’Amour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tom is looking for something sweet and Sofie is happy to oblige.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Don't worry guys, I will have some more smut coming soon but in this chapter the sexual tension really starts to kick off!</p>
<p>Also, I still haven't mastered uploading photos to this darn website but for those who wish to see what a Puit d’Amour looks like, you can see one here: https://www.elle.fr/Elle-a-Table/Recettes-de-cuisine/Puits-d-amour-1985318</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The evening sky was turning a soft purple outside the storefront window. Sofie had just got the last customer out for the day and was beginning her closing up routine for the shop. Her nona had left already for the day, looking more tired than she normally did, and Sofie wondered if something was going on with her, although, knowing her Nona, she’d never admit to it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled her little Bluetooth speaker out of the desk drawer in the office, setting it on top of the display case and connecting it with her smartphone. Tov Lo’s “Disco Tits” immediately started up, and Sofie bopped a little to the beat as she started putting equipment away and wiping down counters. She moved around the shop to the music, closing drawers and cabinets, heading around to the other side of the large display case with her glass cleaner and cloth. She sprayed and wiped, twirling the cloth at the side of her hips like a burlesque dancer, losing herself in the music. She lost herself so much in fact, that she didn’t hear the bell above the door ring as it opened. It wasn’t until she turned around, shaking the cloth in front of her breasts as she shimmied, and saw the handsome, familiar face in front of her that she instantly let out a startled shriek.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, but your sign on the door said you were still open.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie stood stock-still, her mouth hanging open slightly, as she watched Tom approach her. He somehow looked even sexier than the first time she had seen him, his short curls slightly tousled by the chilly evening, and a pair of stylish black glasses perched on his slightly aquiline nose. He was wrapped up in a smart gray pea coat and soft blue scarf that matched his brilliant blue eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She still hadn’t said anything to him, still clutching her bottle and cloth and feeling the blood flush throughout her whole face, absolutely mortified he had caught her dancing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He grinned at her slightly, stepping forward hesitantly as one would approach a skittish rabbit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was hoping to get some pastries to bring to my mother tomorrow,” he said gently. “The croissant I had a few days ago was so good, I had to come back for more. I didn’t realize you were closed though….I can come back tomorrow morning-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Sofie finally snapped out of her humiliation coma, moving to stop him as he started back towards the door. “No, please it’s fine - I just forgot to turn the sign over on the door but we still have plenty left over from today. Please, I insist.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His face brightened as Sofie set her cleaning stuff on top of the display case, quickly running to her phone to shut off the music, which was still playing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry you had to see that- normally I’m alone when I’m closing up for the evening.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tom gave her a slightly wolfish smile. “I’m not. I enjoyed it immensely. You have excellent...rhythm.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie felt herself blush even harder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, we do have a few things left over that you can choose from,” she said, bringing out some of the pink bakery boxes she had just put away and setting them on the counter in front of Tom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We have some of our Black Forest brownies left over,” she said, opening the first box to reveal gorgeous squares of obscenely decadent, nearly black-looking brownies, bursting with dark purple cherries and nuts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tom rubbed his hands together. “Wow those look amazing - what kind of nuts are in them?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Walnuts.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tom frowned slightly. “Ah, too bad - mom’s allergic.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is she allergic to almonds?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Sofie smiled, moving to the next box, revealing rows of identical, pale-pink French macarons, dotted with little black flecks. “These are our Marie Antoinette macarons - infused with hints of rose petal, citrus, and honey from this black tea from China. That’s what the tiny black flecks on top are.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, those do look amazing and my mother would love all those flavors,” he said rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “What’s in </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> box?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie brushed an errant black curl back nervously, noticing Tom watching her every move. She opened up the last pink box. Inside, sat six perfect pastry confections. Tom looked over them, and then back up at Sofie, one eyebrow raised mischievously. Sofie avoided his gaze, feeling flustered as she knew what he was thinking, because it was the same thing she thought every time her Nona made them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“And, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>, pray tell are these delectable looking sweets?” Tom said, his voice a sultry purr.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie swallowed hard, certain he could hear her heart racing away nervously in her chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>““Those are our </span>
  <em>
    <span>puits d’amour</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she squeaked softly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tom stood back up to his full height, his eyes looking down at Sofie playfully. “Hmmm,” he growled. “If I remember my French lessons, I believe </span>
  <em>
    <span>puits d’amour</span>
  </em>
  <span> roughly translates to ‘wells of love.’ And what are in these luscious looking ‘wells of love?’”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie cleared her throat, fidgeting to contain her rogue curl behind her ear. She could feel his gaze on her, and though it was playful, there was definitely a flirty edge to it. </span>
  <span></span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” she said, her voice immediately coming out an octave higher than she expected. “It’s a rough puff pastry base, raspberry compote, choux pastry, and piped crème pâtissière, and to-to-topped with a fresh….raspberry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She finished, feeling like her face was up in flames. She looked down at the box. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They were boobs</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>puits d’amour looked exactly like boobs topped with a raspberry nipple.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she finally found the courage to look back up, she saw Tom had leaned closer, resting an elbow on the counter. His eyes had flitted to the top of her white, scoop-neck shirt, which at the moment was giving the </span>
  <em>
    <span>puits d’amour</span>
  </em>
  <span> a run for their money. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tom licked his lips and moved his eyes back up to Sofie’s face. “Well, those do sound absolutely delicious,” he purred. “However, they may be a bit too decadent for my mom’s palette.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stood back up, taking out his billfold. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell you what - I will take the macarons for my mother. The brownies and </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> the </span>
  <em>
    <span>puits d’amour</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’ll take for myself.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He handed over two, crisp, 100 pound notes to Sofie with a wink. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wo-wonderful,” Sofie sputtered, surprised that he was taking the lot of the leftovers. “Let me just get you your change.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tom put his hand out on her arm, gently stopping her. “No need, darling - I insist. With treats as lovely as these, I’d consider it a bargain.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie blushed, quickly packing up the three boxes into a large brown shopping bag for him. “That’s extremely generous of you, thank you,” she said. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A slow grin spread over Tom’s face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Have dinner with me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie’s eyes went wide. “Me?” she asked, stupefied that this gorgeous man was asking her for a date. “You want to go to dinner with me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well you did ask if there was anything else you could help me with,” he chuckled. “And of course I want to go to dinner with such a beautiful and charming young woman such as yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie tugged at her gray apron nervously, trying to hold back a smile. “Um, sure that would be great.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tom grinned, taking the handle of the shopping bag from Sofie as she handed it over to him. “Wonderful,” he said. “Well, since we both live on the same street, how about I pick you up on Friday at 7:00? If you don’t feel comfortable giving me your address, we can just meet in front of the flower shop on the corner.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds good to me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tom suddenly whipped his mobile phone out and held it slightly up so that it was facing Sofie. “Say </span>
  <em>
    <span>puits d’amour</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie quickly smoothed over her curls, giggling. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Puits d’amour</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” she said, as Tom snapped a picture of her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Exquisite,” he murmured, adding her picture and phone number to his contacts as Sofie blushed wildly. “I’ll text you so we can work out the details.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tom moved over to her, taking her hand in his. “Until then...lovely Sofie,” he winked, bending down to kiss the back of her hand. Sofie’s pulse fluttered as his soft lips touched her skin. He gave her a wink and headed out the door. It wasn’t until she heard the click of the door that Sofie let out a long breath she swore she had been holding ever since he had walked in.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Puits d'Amour recipe: https://thegreatbritishbakeoff.co.uk/recipes/all/prue-leith-puits-damour/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chocolate Pots de Creme</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tom and Sofie have their first date and things heat up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We are finally getting into the smut readers! Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tom was nearly bouncing with anticipation on Friday as he made his way to the flower shop to meet Sofie for their date. He normally was much more composed than this around women, but with Sofie it felt different than anyone else. It was her innocence and sweetness he responded to, but he felt there was an innately sexual being underneath just waiting to be unleashed. Seeing her dancing in her shop nearly made him cum on the spot, her curvy hips and generous breasts swaying and bouncing so enticingly, he wanted to take her right there. Luckily, in her embarrassment in getting caught, she didn’t seem to notice his very physical reaction to her dancing. The macarons he had taken to his mother had been a big hit, as he knew they would be and he brought the brownies with him to the Donmar the next day, where they proceeded to be devoured amidst a chorus of pleasured moans. But the puits d’amour he saved for himself, and with each one that he ate, he would find himself getting so aroused he’d often have to take care of himself after. And each time he did, he thought of her - how sweetly she blushed when she revealed them, realizing he knew what they looked like to her. Tom was nearly positive she had submissive tendencies, and he was fairly sure she might be a little as well. If she was, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers. But he had to play it just right and not overwhelm her right away - she’d likely be skittish if he tried to move too fast too soon, so his game plan was just to make her feel as relaxed and comfortable around him as possible. </p><p> </p><p>They had texted earlier in the day and decided that he’d meet her in front of the flower shop on the corner, just to make her feel more at-ease. He knew she was newly out of a bad relationship and would naturally be somewhat cautious with a new guy. Because of that, he decided to keep dinner more on the casual side, instead of his immediate instinct to take her to a five-star, fancy restaurant. He had found a romantic, but unpretentious bistro nearby that he knew would appeal to her gourmet sensibilities but would provide a more relaxed environment for the two of them to get to know each other in. As such, he told her the attire was casual dress, and for his own outfit that night, he chose a steel-gray Marc Jacobs sweater that clung to his form and a smart pair of dark blue jeans that he finished off with a pair of caramel-colored leather oxfords. He had wrapped himself in his navy pea coat and pale blue scarf and now stood in front of the now-closed flower shop and started scanning the street for Sofie.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t have to wait long as he saw her approaching a few minutes later and felt all the air leave his body. He couldn’t see what she had on underneath her tan, knee-length trench coat, but she was wearing a pair of crimson Mary Jane heels and her thick black curls were pulled back from her face at the sides, the rest spilling over her shoulders in raven waves. Her makeup was minimal except for her lips, which were painted in a deep red that matched her shoes. She looked like sin and innocence smashed together in one glorious, exquisite package and Tom felt his heart race in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>She smiled as she approached him, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling in excitement. He met her half-way, flashing a brilliant smile as he gave her a half-hug, his lips briefly brushing against her cheek in greeting. He nearly groaned with how small she felt against him and how her glossy curls smelled like strawberries and cream. </p><p><br/>
“Hi, you look stunning,” he said.</p><p><br/>
“Thanks,” she said, blushing slightly. “You look great too.”</p><p><br/>
“The bistro is only a ten minute walk away, but I see you are wearing heels - which are lovely, incidentally - so if you want, I can order us an Uber if you don’t feel like walking.”</p><p><br/>
Sofie shook her head. “No that’s okay, I’d actually love to walk.”</p><p> </p><p>Tom smiled and they started to make their way down the street, walking close enough to each other so that their arms constantly brushed against each other. They chatted casually and comfortably about Tom’s rehearsal and Sofie’s day at the bakery. Eventually, they reached the bistro, which was built out of old stones and had red-trimmed windows. The windows flickered warmly with candlelight and the gentle white noise of the diners chatter floated out through the front door when it opened and closed.</p><p> </p><p>Tom opened the door for Sofie, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back as he escorted her in. The inside was casual but romantic, votive candles sat on white tablecloth-covered tables and the warm wood interior made it feel like you were in a charming bistro in the French countryside. The host sat them at an intimate spot towards the back, a small, mahogany table with a tufted velvet C-shaped booth. Tom quickly helped Sofie take her coat off, sucking in a sharp breath when he saw what she was wearing underneath. It was a simple black wrap dress, dotted with tiny red apples. It wasn’t revealing, the hem hitting right at her knees and the v-neck top covering her extremely ample assets, but the way the fabric laid on her and how it molded to her curves made all the blood rush to his cock. </p><p><br/>
“Wow…” he breathed. “Can I say, you look absolutely beautiful.”</p><p><br/>
Sofie bit her lip, holding back a grin, her face immediately flushing like a bloom of roses. She looked so shy and coquettish, and her dress and Mary Janes were giving Tom major Little vibes.</p><p><br/>
They scooted into the booth, having to sit close together by default due to its small size. But Tom wasn’t complaining, and he noticed that Sofie didn’t seem to mind either, as she still actually had plenty of room on her side to spread out, but still stuck close to him. He ordered a bottle of wine for them as they finally settled in.</p><p><br/>
“So how long have you worked at the bakery? Tom asked, taking a sip of the Barolo they had just been poured. </p><p><br/>
“About five years now,” she said. “I came from New Hampshire, where I went to culinary school to help Nona out when grandpa died. Been here ever since.”</p><p><br/>
“Culinary school? That’s quite impressive - the extent of my culinary prowess is Spaghetti Bolognese.”</p><p><br/>
Sofie giggled, sipping her wine. “Hey, a good Spaghetti Bolognese is no joke to make - it takes time.”</p><p><br/>
“I bet you did very well in culinary school,” purred Tom, his eyes twinkling over the rim of his glass at her. “Took direction well, paid attention, studied hard, obeyed your instructors…”</p><p><br/>
Sofie smiled meekly, a flush creeping up to her cheeks. “I was top of my graduating class.”</p><p><br/>
Tom licked his lips and sat back, a wolfish grin taking over his place. “I have no doubt, my dear.”</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p>Dinner was incredible, and Sofie couldn’t remember when she had a better first date. Tom was polite, intelligent, witty, and warm. He had a way of making you feel instantly comfortable around him, which Sofie definitely appreciated after her break-up with Max. But there was something else about Tom that Sofie couldn’t quite pinpoint. It wasn’t so much confidence, though he definitely had that (thankfully in a non-annoying way). It was more an inherent air of dominance that he exuded. He had asked Sofie what she wanted and ordered for the both of them once the waiter came, he rested his arm on top of the booth behind Sofie’s shoulders and only took it away once their food came, and he doted on her throughout the meal, whether it was pouring her wine for her, or standing when she had to use the restroom. He made her feel very protected and safe, and it was having a very curious effect on her. Several times, his commanding nature made her squeeze her thighs together discreetly under the table. Though she was pretty sure Tom couldn't have noticed, she did see him suppress a grin whenever she did it.</p><p> </p><p>They both ordered<em> Chocolate Pots de Creme</em> for dessert, and Sofie watched as Tom’s eyes fluttered shut as soon as he took his first bite, groaning in pleasure. It instantly made her think of what he might look like participating in more carnal activities and she suppressed a grin. </p><p><br/>
“You really like sweets, don’t you?” she said, giggling.</p><p><br/>
Tom grinned at her, setting down his spoon. “I love all things dessert, and even more so if they are chocolate,” he said, moving closer to her.</p><p><br/>
He reached out and lightly took one of Sofie’s glossy black curls between his fingers. “What can I say? I have a kink for things that are sweet and dark.”</p><p><br/>
Sofie bit her lip and smiled shyly at him.</p><p><br/>
When they finally left the restaurant, Sofie was pleasantly full and flushed from her wine. Tom offered to walk her to her building and she accepted. They chatted the whole way, though several times Sofie found herself being distracted by the woodsy, spicy scent of Tom’s cologne and the way his tongue came up behind his teeth when he laughed. All too soon, they found themselves in front of Sofie’s building.</p><p><br/>
“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you up?” Tom asked, turning to face her and taking one of her hands in his.</p><p><br/>
She shivered at the warm contact more than the chilly night air, as he lightly started to rub his thumb across the back of her hand.</p><p><br/>
“No, I’ll be okay - thank you though.”</p><p><br/>
Tom looked up at the building. “Which window are you?”</p><p><br/>
“4th floor up - that one right in the middle.”</p><p><br/>
Tom smiled mischievously and turned, pointing towards his own building across the street. “That’s mine - 4th floor up, right smack in the middle too. I guess we’re destined to be, little one.”</p><p><br/>
Sofie’s heart fluttered at those two last words and she bit her lip nervously.</p><p><br/>
She felt Tom’s finger under her chin, gently lifting her head to look at him. </p><p><br/>
“I’d really like to see you again, Sofie,” he said softly. “Would you like that?”</p><p><br/>
Sofie nodded slightly.</p><p><br/>
“Use your words, little one,” he purred at her.</p><p><br/>
“Y-yes,” she squeaked out, hypnotized by his piercing blue eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, he bent down and as his lips met hers, Sofie felt her knees buckle for a second before she returned the kiss. When she did, she heard Tom let out a soft growl as his arms wrapped around her waist. It was like there was nobody else in the world at the moment, as Sofie was wrapped in the warm cocoon of his arms. His lips were so strong, yet soft, and as the tip of his tongue lightly teased her lips, she opened to him willingly, feeling arousal pooling in the pit of her stomach as she carded her fingers through his hair. Tom let out a groan when she did that, and she felt his fingers dig into her hips. Finally, they both reluctantly pulled away for air and Sofie was sure her cheeks were bright red and her lips were kiss-bruised. Tom, for his part, was breathing hard, his eyes hungry and feral.</p><p><br/>
“I think we should probably say goodnight before I can’t stop myself anymore,” Tom panted, licking his lips.</p><p><br/>
Sofie nodded, her legs feeling slightly wobbly still from the kiss.</p><p><br/>
“I’ll text you this week and see when we can get together, yes?” he said, smoothing back her slightly disheveled curls from her face. </p><p><br/>
“That sounds wonderful.”</p><p><br/>
He bent down again and gently kissed her on the lips. Sofie swore he could hear her sigh blissfully.</p><p><br/>
“Goodnight, little one - I’ll see you soon.”</p><p><br/>
“Goodnight, Tom - I had an amazing time.”</p><p><br/>
Sofie ran up the stairs to her building, Tom watching her the whole time. She gave him a little wave that he returned before she slipped through the door.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p>When she got into her apartment, she sighed happily, throwing herself onto her couch. She could still feel the warmth of Tom’s lips against hers, and she lightly ran her fingers over her lips sighing dreamily as she did. She heard her phone ping and looked down to see a text message from Tom:</p><p><br/>
<strong>T: DID YOU MAKE IT TO YOUR FLAT OKAY? :)</strong>
</p><p><br/>
She smiled down at the screen.</p><p><br/>
<strong>S: I DID. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR A WONDERFUL EVENING.</strong> </p><p><br/>
Sofie put her phone down and smiled, closing her eyes happily as she replayed the evening in her head. Suddenly, her phone pinged again, pulling her out of it. She brought it up and saw Tom texted her again.</p><p><br/>
<strong>T: IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE OVER LITTLE ONE. GO TO YOUR WINDOW.</strong>
</p><p><br/>
Feeling her heart start to race, she got up and moved over to her window. Looking out across the way, she saw Tom standing at his own, a devilish smile on his face. She smiled back at him, blushing and gave him a little wave. She saw him bring his phone up and start to type. A few seconds later, she got his message. </p><p><br/>
<strong>T: STAY AT THE WINDOW LITTLE ONE, AND WATCH ME. </strong>
</p><p><br/>
Sofie looked up at him from her phone and nodded. She watched as he took his gray jumper off, leaving him in a white undershirt and jeans. Sofie took in a deep breath as he watched her watching him. He slowly reached for the hem of his undershirt, and, pausing slightly, swiftly pulled it up and over his head, tossing it beside him. Sofie squeaked as his strong, toned chest was finally revealed, and she hadn’t realized she had slowly been moving closer and closer to the window until she bumped her nose against the glass. Flustered, she stepped back a little, rubbing her nose as Tom grinned in amusement. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his chest - he was all lean, long muscle under peachy skin, with small, brownish-pink nipples, and a light spattering of golden brown chest hair. She clenched her thighs together, feeling an aching arousal start to pool in the pit of her stomach. Sofie saw Tom glare at her for a moment, as he reached down to grab his phone again.</p><p><br/>
<strong>T: JUST WATCH ME, LITTLE ONE. NO TOUCHING YOURSELF, UNDERSTAND?</strong>
</p><p><br/>
Sofie nodded again and she could see Tom shake his head.</p><p><br/>
<strong>T: I NEED YOU TO USE YOUR WORDS, SWEETLING.</strong>
</p><p><br/>
Sofie instantly brought her phone up and texted him back.</p><p><br/>
<strong>S: I UNDERSTAND, TOM.</strong>
</p><p><br/>
A huge smile broke out across Tom’s face as he typed his reply.</p><p><br/>
<strong>T: THAT’S A GOOD GIRL.</strong>
</p><p><br/>
Sofie shivered at his words, the praise washing over her like a warm blanket. Tom grinned, knowing the effect those words were having on her right now.</p><p><br/>
He reached down to the button of his jeans, pausing a moment to give Sofie a chance to back out. She gave none, and just continued to look at him with wide, aroused eyes. Tom popped the button on his jeans and slowly pulled the zipper down. He looked up at Sofie, who was biting her lips, before finally pushing them all the way down. Sofie gasped, her hand instinctively going up to her mouth, as he was revealed in all his glory. Obviously, Tom was not an underwear man, and it excited her that the whole time they were out tonight, there was only a thin layer of denim between him and her. As he pushed his jeans down, his cock sprang out, slapping against his stomach before standing tall and proud. Sofie felt her pussy clench at the sight. He was long and thick, the end of the impressive shaft reaching just below his belly button. Sofie could make out the bulbous red tip of it as Tom gently reached down and took himself in hand. He was exquisite, his body like a Greek God carved out of alabaster, and Sofie couldn’t help but let out a moan as his eyes locked with hers as he slowly started to stroke his cock.</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t explain it, but she was more aroused at this moment than she had ever been in her life, and could literally feel herself soaking her underwear as his hand worked slowly up and down his shaft as he gazed at her.  The fact that she could only watch as he stroked himself off, was both frustrating and the most intensely erotic thing she had ever experienced. She struggled to keep her hands at her sides, wanting nothing more than to rip her panties off and join in with him. But she obeyed, and somehow it was that acquiescence that made the whole situation even more intoxicating. She took him in as he started to stroke faster, his eyes never leaving hers, his now rock-hard cock taking on an angry red color. Sofie could see the flex of his abdominals as he rocked his hips and she moaned, putting her hand against the window, desperate to not touch herself. However, she was certain she was heading towards an orgasm anyway - she could feel that familiar tingling sensation at the base of her spine propelling her forward. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Tom now even if she wanted to.  He was absolutely beautiful - mouth open in pleasure, his eyes fluttering, and Sofie flashed back watching him eat the <em>Chocolate Pots de Creme</em> with a sense of deja vu. </p><p><br/>
His body was now covered with a light sheen of sweat and she was absolutely aching to touch him, to feel that gorgeous thick cock inside her, fucking her into oblivion. Suddenly, imagining Tom fucking her, her orgasm hit her. </p><p><br/>
“FUCCKK!” she shouted, both hands gripping the frame of her window as she felt her cunt pulse and twitch around nothing.</p><p><br/>
Tom’s eyes went wide, and the sight of her orgasming without being touched immediately made him climax, and Sofie watched, panting, as he shot ropes of thick, white cum against the window, eventually falling back into a chair as his chest heaved. A minute passed as they tried to collect themselves. Tom grabbed some tissues on a table near him and cleaned himself up as quickly as he could. He then grabbed his phone and moved towards the window again. He could see Sofie was sitting on the edge of her bed, her curls slightly disheveled and her cheeks positively flushed.</p><p><br/>
<strong>T: DID YOU JUST CUM?</strong>
</p><p><br/>
Sofie heard the ping and texted him back. </p><p><br/>
<strong>S: YEAH, I DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH MYSELF, I PROMISE. THAT’S NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE.</strong>
</p><p><br/>
Tom chuckled with satisfaction.</p><p><br/>
<strong>T: DON’T YOU DARE BE EMBARRASSED, LITTLE ONE. YOU LOOK ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS WHEN YOU CUM.</strong>
</p><p><br/>
Sofie giggled shyly, putting her fist up to her cheek, a nervous habit she’d had since she was a child. </p><p><br/>
<strong>T: THANK YOU FOR THAT DARLING, YOU WERE AMAZING FOR ME. SUCH A GOOD GIRL. I’LL TEXT YOU TOMORROW.</strong>
</p><p><br/>
Sofie sighed at his praise, feeling euphoric, but definitely sleepy now after her intense orgasm.</p><p><br/>
<strong>S: I’D LOVE THAT. GOODNIGHT, TOM.</strong>
</p><p><br/>
<strong>T: SWEET DREAMS, MY LITTLE ONE.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chocolate Pots de Creme recipe here: https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchen/chocolate-pots-de-creme-recipe-1972992</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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